As England is getting cold and grim, what better way to fill my last few days of freedom than a trip over to warm, sunny, Cyprus.
Not a lot to tell, really. Days spent traversing the Island. Paddling in the sea in the morning, slow lunches by the sea, snowball fights in the afternoon up on Troodos, Drinks and Mezze in the long warm evenings.
The countryside burning brown, orange. Glinting sea as mountains swallow the bloated ball of the sun. Venetian bridges on a road to nowhere, ringed with wreathes of red, orange, deep green. Above the void, below the cooling blue. Thin streams in chaotic culverts, ready to rise in rains, the arch bounding overhead -- alive and fluid, calmly mocking the heaving torrent as it leaps from rock to heavy rock.
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